The Right Choice
by funnywithachanceofmurder
Summary: What would happen if Michael got his old job back? What choice would he make? Oneshot looking at his and Fi's reactions. Slight, slight spoilers for Dead or Alive.


Last I checked, they still weren't mine. Oh well. This is just a short look at what could happen if Michael got back in... Enjoy

The Right Choice

Michael and Fiona stood in the loft, each eating a yogurt, when Michael's phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and stepped away from the kitchen.

"Hello?" he said. Fiona watched as a look of surprise crossed his features. He nodded as he listened to the call, offered a few "yeahs" and "okays" before he said "Thank you," and hung up, turning towards Fiona.

"Who was that?" she asked curiously.

He stared at her for a few moments, seemingly dazed before he answered slowly. "It was my old handler… I'm back in," he said in amazement.

"Oh," she answered. One syllable, but he knew she was upset. "Are you taking it?" she finally asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know… Maybe," he answered.

She looked at him for a moment before placing the yogurt and spoon on the counter and storming out of the loft, slamming the door on her way out.

"Fi," he called after her, knowing it was a lost cause.

* * *

A few days later, his bags were packed and his flight was leaving in a few hours. He stood in the loft, a duffel bag over one shoulder with another one resting at his feet, looking at Fiona.

"I'm sorry, Fi," he offered.

She nodded, fighting back tears, wondering if it was better or worse that she had to actually watch him leave this time. She had always known that this was a possibility. That one day, Michael could get a call, just like last time, and disappear from her life again. But now that it was happening, she realized it was even harder than she had imagined.

"At least we get to say goodbye this time," she finally answered.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah," he answered. "Bye," he finally said, starting towards the door.

"Michael?" she said.

He turned around, one foot half out of the door, to look back at her. "Yeah?" he questioned.

"If you walk out that door…" she paused, and swallowed hard. "If you walk out that door, don't expect to be able to walk back in."

His face didn't change as he nodded slowly. "Goodbye," he whispered, and then he was gone.

"Goodbye," she whispered into the silence.

* * *

About twenty minutes later, Michael jumped out of the Charger and sprinted, out of breath, to the front of Fiona's new place. He paused at her door, trying to catch his breath. He hesitated for a few minutes before reaching out and knocking on the door. He heard movement, then a muffled, "Who is it?"

"It's me," he said quietly, knowing she would recognize his voice. He heard her sigh, but the door remained shut.

"What do you want?" she asked through the closed door.

"I want to come in," he started, "and never leave again." Fiona didn't miss the deeper meaning behind his words. She knew exactly what he really meant. After a few moments, she opened the door, but stayed between him and the inside of the house.

"I made it almost all the way to the airport," he said.

"Only almost?" she questioned.

"Yeah," he said. "The whole way there, all I could think about was the last time I left you.

"So…" she said, filling the empty silence.

"So I came back," he said.

"What about your job?" she questioned. "Isn't that what you always wanted?"

"I thought so," he started. "Then I realized being a spy is the perfect job… for some people. And I was one of them, for a long time. I don't know if it was because of my childhood, or if it was just something that worked for me. And then I met you… And I fell in love. But then my job got in the way. The first time I left you was the first time I really hated being a spy. But I managed to put that behind me, and I kept doing it for another ten years. It wasn't the perfect job anymore, but it was still something I loved to do," he paused for a moment before speaking again. "And then I got burned… and I got dumped back in Miami, with my mom, and Sam… and you."

"And you realized all this in the past twenty minutes, while you drove to the airport?" she questioned, unbelieving.

"Sort of," he paused, and then elaborated. "All I could think about on the way there was that I was driving away from you. And for the first time, I realized I don't want to be a spy, not anymore. Ten years ago, even five, it was my dream job. But now… it means leaving you. And twenty minutes ago, I thought I was okay with that," he looked at her. "I'm not," he finished.

"What am I supposed to do, Michael?" she asked quietly, her eyes glistening. "Pretend that you didn't just walk away? That you didn't walk away ten years ago? Believe that everything you've done in Miami, trying to get back in, doesn't matter anymore?"

"Yes," he said softly.

"People don't change, Michael. What's going to happen next week, or next month, or next year? What's going to happen when you realize that being here isn't enough for you anymore?" she questioned quietly. "I can't watch you walk away. Not again."

"I know that I don't have the greatest track record, Fi, but I have changed. Before I met you, I was just a spy. I never got close to anyone. I was, to quote Sam, a lone wolf. But you changed me, Fi. You did. And I know that you don't want to trust this, trust me, and rationally, you shouldn't, but…" he said.

"But what, Michael?" she asked.

"But this isn't the time for rational. This is one of those times where you need to trust it irrationally. You need to… take a leap of faith," he said softly. He looked at her, his blue eyes meeting hers, searching for an answer.

"Okay," she finally said.

"Okay?" he repeated. She nodded, and he felt a huge grin break onto his face. She felt herself start to smile back, and the next thing she knew his lips were on hers. One arm snaked around her waist, and his other hand went up to tangle itself in her hair. She reached up and put her arms around his neck, stepping closer to him.

A few moments later, they broke apart, both of them breathing heavily. "So can I come in now?" he finally asked, his arm still around her waist.

"I don't know," she pretended to think. "If I recall correctly, you did walk out the door, Mr. Westen."

He opened his mouth and tried to look angry, but failed as a smile broke out onto his face. He fake glared at her and scooped her up, throwing her over his shoulder and walking into the house. He shut the door with his foot before walking farther inside and heading towards her bedroom.

He tossed her on the bed, and jumped next to her, kissing her again. "I walked out the door," he said, "but I did come back," he countered with a smirk.

She nodded, and answered. "I knew you'd make the right choice."


End file.
